Jigsaw
by swallowedminds
Summary: "Just hearing her voice makes his heart skip a beat, seeing her name on the caller ID makes him fumble for his phone again. Like when they first met, as if they aren't married. Hell, as if they aren't together." Post-ep for 8x04. One shot.


_If you read this on tumblr, some changes have been made. Post ep for What Lies Beneath._

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He leans against his desk, sighs as he looks around the vast emptiness of the loft.

This is why he hasn't been coming home as of late. It's too lonesome, too quiet, too cold for him anymore. In the morning he thinks he hears the sound of the coffee pot spilling dark liquid into his wife's mug, the sound of her heels clacking against the hardwood floors, but no. Just the low hum of the refrigerator, the murmur of cars whirring as they pass by outside.

He's sick of waking up and not seeing her here, of the cold sheets, the scentless pillows. He's not used to having the floor of his bedroom so vacant, accustomed instead to stepping over or rather, _tripping_ over her heels.

He misses her. He misses her presence. Their souls fit together like two jigsaw pieces, were woven together, stitched tight with the strings of their hearts, and she's ripped herself away, leaving him a broken, distorted, unidentifiable reflection of half a heart, of a man that used to be.

Just hearing her voice makes his heart skip a beat, seeing her name on the caller ID makes him fumble for his phone again. Like when they first met, as if they aren't married. Hell, as if they aren't together.

After taking a much needed shower (he debated on a cold one because after seeing his wife in that dress and not being able to touch her has done things to him) he puts on some fresh clothes, grabs his laptop charger and a couple movies. He can't be here. As much as he wants to wait for the day she walks back through that front door, he can't be here.

If he stays he's going to lose his mind.

Just as he's about to leave, his phone rings, a picture of his wife flashing up at him, depicting a happier time, when she was home, and waking up didn't hurt.

He could show her how great they are together. But now, she doesn't even want him around.

Castle answers on the second ring, knows he sounds eager when he says her name into the mouthpiece.

She doesn't speak for a moment. He hears something like a pen drop on a thick pad of paper-must still be at the precinct-and a sigh before she decides to respond.

"H-hey." It's timid, as if she doesn't know what to say or how to say it.

 _What do you want?_ He could easily ask. But doesn't. He just wants his wife back.

It's not fair. It's not fair that she can call him like this because he knows how this is going to end. With him asking, her not saying, him begging, her sighing and saying respect her choice, and then she'll hang up. And then he'll feel like the bad guy. It's not fair.

"Hey."

"I, um," she's fiddling, he can tell. Trying to distract herself from the true meaning of why she called. "Wanted to make sure you got in okay." Just the sound of her voice is like music to his ears. Only their disc is skipping, stuck on repeat, and they keep having the same conversation. Over and over.

"Yeah, yeah," he glances down at his sock clad feet, kicks at an invisible piece of lint on the ground. "You?"

"Oh!" She sounds guilty. "I'm not- I haven't- umm I'm still-"

"At the precinct?"

A sigh.

To quote Ryan, their entire relationship is built on him pushing boundaries. Why should he stop now? It has to mean something. As a writer he can't help but read in between the lines, get to core of Beckett's actions. She's always been better at action than words.

And she called.

She called when she didn't have to.

It has to mean something.

Castle bites his tongue, tries to think about what he's going to say before he says it. He doesn't want to scare her off, but his heart, battered it may be, trumps his mind. His heart knows when Beckett is near and all it wants to do is be with hers. Heal with hers.

"Kate," he whispers. "I miss you."

Another sigh. "Castle." A warning.

He ignores it.

"You said you still need me. I need you too." Despite his calm voice, anger revs up, frustration that he can't fix this one, that he can't find a way to worm himself back into her heart because he's already there. Courting her is not the answer and he doesn't know what to do. "Kate I-"

"Castle, please. I told you-"

"I don't wanna fight. Please." Castle's legs aren't strong enough to hold him up anymore. His body sags from exhaustion, his head pounds, so he lays down across the cold sheets on their bed. "I just…I just wanna love you tonight."

She gasps on the line and he imagines her closing her eyes, fingers clenched around her phone, teeth dug into her lip. Kate tries to speak, but her throat won't stay open long enough to formulate words.

"Just let me care for you tonight." It's quiet a few moments and Castle takes it as a green light. "How are you, Kate? Really?"

She sucks in a deep breath, releases it slow. "Not so good."

"You haven't been sleeping. Or eating. Much."

He hears her almost imperceptible, "no."

"Why?"

"Hmm, Rick."

"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. Whatever-whatever you're doing, just don't forget you're human, Kate," his voice breaks, a sudden on slot of tears making their way up his throat.

She doesn't speak for a while and neither does he, content with just listening to her breathing. And when he closes his eyes he can pretend she's lying next to him.

"I love you," she murmurs, voice cracking just so right before she hangs up.

He tosses the phone to the other side of the bed, runs his hands over his face, and groans.

It's not fair, when all he wants is for her to come home.

* * *

 _Big thank you to Amy, for the quick beta :)_

 _Thanks for reading :)_


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